


I touched your lips and held your hands when they were shaking

by honeymoonmuke



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bubble Bath, Comfort, Cuddles, Derek is a Good Alpha, Derek pours Stiles a bubble bath, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hale Pack, M/M, Pack Bonding, Pack Cuddles, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Puppy Piles, Stiles has a bad day, bad day, pack fluff, stiles is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 16:59:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeymoonmuke/pseuds/honeymoonmuke
Summary: Derek knows just what to do when Stiles has a bad day.





	I touched your lips and held your hands when they were shaking

Stiles didn’t have to say anything. The moment he walked through the front door, shoulders sagging, temper withering, Derek was there with open arms. Dropping a few bags at his feet, Stiles quickly stepped forwards and melted into the warm touch of his boyfriend. 

Like clockwork, Derek’s hands went to anchor Stiles’ hips closely to his body in a grip that spoke nothing but safety and protection. As well as this, he tilted his neck slightly to the side which gave Stiles the perfect spot to nuzzle his face against. They slotted together like pieces of a puzzle, Stiles’ eyes screwing shut as he tried to press down a wave of jittering emotion that threatened to rear its ugly head and spill all over Derek’s new jumper. 

Time passed, words went scarce. Comfortable in their embrace, Stiles focused his energy on flattening the slight irregularity in his heart’s rhythm. It took him quite a while, but Derek stood there - patient as a Saint - holding him with just the right amount of pressure. 

Every so often, the older man would turn his mouth and scatter a few soft kisses across the top of Stiles’ head. The brief touch of lips against skin made him feel slightly better, small beams of warmth breaking through the cool darkness that enveloped his chest. 

“D’rek?” Stiles murmured, after what felt like both an eternity and no time whatsoever. Derek responded with a low hum, fingers tracing comforting circles into a spot above Stiles’ hip bones. “Can we, um,” he broke off, suddenly at a loss for the words he was about to speak. 

“Bath?” Derek supplied, familiar with Stiles’ routine. He nodded his head, movement short due to their proximity to one another. Derek looped a hand around his shoulders and readjusted their position so they could walk towards the bathroom together, Stiles stuck to his side like glue. He leaned into his boyfriend’s side, allowing himself to be manipulated like a ragdoll. Days like these - when everything felt like too much too fast - he was happy to let Derek look after him. 

The bathroom was a short walk away from the front door, but every step felt as though it spanned eternity for Stiles. 

Suddenly, a flicker of lights. He looked up and refocused his eyes to see he was sitting on a counter, Derek leaving a soft kiss on his forehead. He whined when his boyfriend moved away to fiddle with the shiny taps of the bath, frown lines lessening only when Derek told him he’d be back in just a few seconds.

Stiles watched on, slightly out of it, as Derek selected a lavender-scented bubble bath and squirted out at least half of the bottle. This brought a weak smile to his face - normally Derek was strict on bath product, claiming Stiles could burn through gallons of the stuff if not limited. This blatant disregard for his own, personal rule was endearing.

“Up.” Derek tapped the tops of his arms. Stiles blinked, taking a few moments to realise he’d come back from where he was kneeling on the tiles, dealing with the water. Obeying lazily, Stiles stretched his hands up and towards the ceiling. A few moments later his shirt was folded and put aside and his teeth began to chatter. Soft hands moved down his sides, summoning goosebumps to his chilly skin until Derek’s grasp laid firmly on the buckle of his belt. “Could you stand up?” He asked gently.

Holding Derek’s outstretched arm, Stiles pushed himself off the countertop. The sounds of running water crashed over his ears in such a loud and violent way that he found himself reaching up to cover them. He noticed the look of worry that briefly made an appearance on Derek’s rugged face, and tried to placate that fear by giving him a smile. “I’m fine,” he spoke strongly. Well, that’s what he was aiming for, anyway. In actuality, his words were barely a whisper. 

“You don’t need to say anything, Stiles. Let me take care of you.” Derek succeeded in pulling his trousers down his legs, and he cooperated by lifting his feet and shaking off the material. Derek knelt and worked on the taco-printed socks, Stiles letting out a small sound when warm fingers pressed against his cold, cold feet. 

Stiles leaned back against the marble counter, watching as Derek took a peek at the bath. He seemed to decide it was satisfactory as he ran a testing hand through the water before screwing the taps tightly shut. When he returned his focus to Stiles, Derek quickly hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, adding them to the pre-existing pile of Stiles’ clothes.

Stiles shivered, the sound made by his chattering teeth echoing through his skull in the most painful way imaginable. “Come too?” He asked, blinking up at Derek who nodded and stripped in the blink of an eye. 

As if he were an old man, Derek helped him over to the bath. They clambered in together, a brief period of limb adjustment and flying bubbles passing until Stiles was partly submerged beneath the warm water, head pressing comfortably against Derek’s chest. 

Stiles sniffed, the soothing scent of lavender washing over him. His eyes began to droop, the backs of his eyelids proving to be a nicer image to stare at than the cold tiling of the walls. Behind him, Derek hummed a soft tune beneath his breath, arms keeping Stiles afloat as he began to loosen up. He moved his fingers over Stiles’ arms, twirling an assortment of letters and shapes over the mole-scattered skin in a way that helped to lower his boyfriend’s discomfort. 

Minutes flew by. Stiles wasn’t sure if he fell asleep or merely drifted into a different degree of consciousness, but when he was coming round again, Derek was doing his best to clean him. He tried to help out, maneuvering his limbs whenever he was asked to and closing his eyes when the washcloth came near his face. 

“Do you want the others to come over?” Stiles pondered this for a moment. There were both positives and negatives to having the Pack around. A few years ago he might’ve declined but since everyone had moved onto college, they’d grown closer. Now, he enjoyed being surrounded by them. 

“Yes, please,” he murmured. Derek made a sound of agreement and nestled his lips against his temple, pressing  _ one, two, three  _ consecutive kisses to the pale skin.

“It’s getting chilly, do you want to get out? We can rerun the water if you want to stay,” Derek offered. Stiles shook his head and made to get from the bath. Ever since Lydia had given them a lecture on water responsibility, he’d been trying to watch his water usage. That, and the bubbles had disappeared. 

“Careful!” Derek warned, quickly grabbing Stiles by the hips when his foot hit a slippery patch. Stiles felt his heart skip a beat, the fear of falling straight on his face slowly ebbing away when hands squeezed his waist.

“Thank you,” he said, voice clearer than it’d been for hours. It seemed as though the bath had returned some of the energy he’d had sucked out by the day. 

Derek grabbed a towel from the rack and bundled it around his shoulders, helping him through to their bedroom. He let out a tired sigh when he fell to a seat on the bed, the mattress so soft he practically melted into it. 

Stiles waited there patiently, starting to dry himself off as Derek bustled around the room. He overheard snippets of a phone conversation between Derek and Scott, and watched as it took Derek three attempts to find the drawer full of hoodies and jumpers. 

“We’ve lived here for five months and you  _ still  _ haven’t learnt your way around the bedroom,” he teased, smiling fondly. Derek shot him a surprised look.

“Someone’s perked up,” he commented, a twinkle in his eyes as he returned to Stiles’ side. He placed a heap of clothes on the mattress and worked on drying the last droplets of water from Stiles’ skin.

Stiles continued to grin, the ice in his chest slowly melting away as Derek pushed a red hoodie over his head, the white lettered words of ‘ _ Beacon Hills Class of ‘17 _ ’ flashing before his eyes. Once swallowed by the oversized material, Stiles kicked out his feet and waited as Derek pushed some boxers and then a pair of sweats up and over his legs, treating him as if he were a delicate flower.

Socks came next. The Star Wars-patterned pair that had been picked out were ones that Stiles was all too familiar with; Derek bought them for him after he’d dragged him to Comic Con one year. He laughed at the memory of convincing Derek to cosplay with him - the two of them had made a kickass Batman/Robin duo.

“Memories of San Diego?” Derek asked. Stiles nodded his head, standing up when warm fingers touched his leg. At some point, Derek must have clothed himself too because the hug Stiles found himself wrapped in was surprisingly cushioned. 

“We should go back,” he suggested. 

“When you’ve finished your degree, we could drive. Turn it into a road trip to celebrate?” Derek offered, fingers tugging at the drawstrings of Stiles’ hoodie when the younger man pulled back. 

“Really?!” He squeaked, eyes wide. His mind began to whirl at a million miles an hour, plans of their costumes already beginning to form.

“Of course,” Derek replied, a fond expression written across his features. Stiles reached up and ran his fingers across the stubble that shadowed his jaw, the scratchy sensations prickling his fingertips in a rather enjoyable manner. “Are you ready to see the others?”

“Mhmm,” he responded. He was beginning to notice the emptiness in his stomach, hear the angry growls it made. 

Derek slipped their hands together, palms pressing together comfortably. They plodded through together, and Stiles noticed that Derek’s hoodie was one the he’d bought him a few Christmases ago (it was  _ very  _ cute, if he did say so himself. The print of a wolf and a fox curled against each other suited Derek well). 

When they walked into the lounge, it took Stiles one glance at the floor to know that everyone had arrived. It was set up the way it always was when someone was feeling down - pillows, blankets, and duvets strewed across every visible surface. A couple of coffee tables were dotted around, each holding an assortment of drinks and one of the many boxes of pizzas that Boyd had undoubtedly supplied.

“Hey,” Derek greeted. The Pack was littered around the room, some of them towards the back, some of them already on the floor. Stiles gave them a weary smile, a shot of warmth shooting through his chest.  _ They’d all come to cheer him up. _ Derek squeezed his hand before letting go, slipping off to the side.

Before he could blink, Scott was crossing the room and pulling Stiles into a bone-crushing hug. He clung to his best friend as if they hadn’t seen each other in months, the man’s embrace full of such an overwhelming love that he found his eyes welling with tears. “One of those days?” Scott asked, pulling back to study Stiles’ face. He nodded in response, releasing a short sigh. 

“‘M sorry I dragged you all here. I know you probably had better things to do than comfort me.” Now that they were all there, Stiles felt a little guilty. 

“Don’t be silly,” Isaac piped up. He was on the floor, sandwiched between Allison and Erica. “We want to be here.” 

Stiles’ mouth ached from the amount of smiling he’d been doing. 

“What do you want to watch?” Lydia called out. She was standing by one of the DVD shelves, hand perched on her hip. 

“ _ Please,  _ don’t say Star-” Boyd’s grumbled demand came to an abrupt halt when Erica reached out and smacked his shoulder. Stiles rolled his eyes, unable to feel anything but affection towards the little exchange. He loved his packmates.

“Let’s go with something different,” he said, laughing a little when Boyd let out a whoop, “how about Ghostbusters?” From behind him, he heard Scott mirror Boyd’s sound. A hand clapped his shoulder.

“Good choice, bro,” Scott praised. Stiles nodded, pulling down the sleeves of his hoodie before beginning to make his way towards Derek.

His boyfriend was sat near the middle of the Pack, back pressed up against one of the sofas. Beside him was Stiles’ favourite pillow - yes, he had a favourite pillow, and yes, it was the comfiest thing he’d ever touched - and a fluffy blanket. 

Mumbling apologies when he accidentally stood on hands and feet, Stiles clumsily wove his way to his spot. He dropped to the floor, curling up against Derek’s side as the warm man wrapped the blanket over his shoulders. 

“Here Stiles, take this,” Allison passed him a paper plate with a slice of pizza already laid out. He thanked her quietly, devouring the slice in record time. When he was done, someone replenished the slice with a new one, and thus the pattern repeated until he was well and truly stuffed.

There was a slight delay with the film - Lydia ended up having to traipse through their attic in a blind search for batteries when the remote died - so, by the time they were ready to begin, everyone was finished with the food. 

Stiles leaned back and watched as the Pack did his favourite thing. The first time it’d happened, he’d been beyond confused. Thankfully, Derek had explained it to him, his expansive werewolf knowledge proving to be of great use.

With Derek as Alpha, and Stiles as Alpha-mate, the betas tended to gravitate around them. It was second nature for them to be as close as possible to the leaders of the Pack, and as a result of this, Stiles often found himself surrounded by them.

They huddled in close, moving as one, cohesive group. Scott nestled in against Stiles’ other side, their arms pressing together firmly. Spread across both their feet, Isaac was reclining on his side, head facing the television. Allison was on the other side of Scott, leaning against her boyfriend similarly to the way Stiles was pressed against Derek. Speaking of, on Derek’s free side, Erica and Boyd were crowded around him.

When Lydia returned from fiddling with the TV, she joined Jackson on the sofa behind the rest of them. She lay in front, her hands going to play with the ends of Stiles’ hair.

It was a close squeeze. The nine of them were knit together so closely that it felt a little like they were all part of a big machine. However, it wasn’t uncomfortable or claustrophobic in the slightest. Stiles felt more like himself - surrounded by the pulse of Pack love - than he had all day, the smile never dying from his lips.

“You comfy?” Derek asked, voice a low murmur so as not to distract the rest from the beginning of the film. 

Stiles looked up, the dim light of the room preventing him from making out anything but the caring glint in Derek’s eyes. “‘M perfect. Are you?” Derek hummed in agreement. Returning his attention to the film, Stiles found himself getting into the plot quite quickly. The film was one of his favourites, and also one of Boyd’s. That was one of the reasons why he’d picked it, really. Maintaining the peace was what Stiles did best, especially when it came to Pack matters.

Around an hour in, he felt his eyelids begin to droop. As if Derek sensed it - and, let’s be honest, that was a very real possibility - the arm thrown across his shoulder pressed Stiles closer, readjusting his position so his head fell comfortably against his side. From his other side, Scott fiddled with the blanket so it was covering him completely. 

He tried to stay awake - he really,  _ really _ did. But it had been such a draining day and now he was full, warm and surrounded by nothing but positive energy. Stiles was sure that even the strongest man would’ve crumbled. 

All too easily, he drifted off into a serene sleep, Derek’s arms steering him away from any nasty night terrors that threatened to ruin the peace. He wasn’t entirely sure, but Stiles had a sneaky suspicion that his dream had something to do with puppy piles.

When Stiles stirred from his sleep, it took him a startlingly long amount of time to realise where he was. In his defense - he was still half-asleep, and thoroughly disorientated from apparently being moved during his rest.

He was in his and Derek’s bedroom, lying beneath the covers of their Queen-sized bed. His back was pressed against Derek’s front, hands pulling him firmly back. Derek’s head was so close to the side of his neck that he could feel the warm plumes of air fanning across his skin every time his boyfriend exhaled. 

How seven other people managed to squeeze onto that bed, Stiles honestly had no idea. They’d managed it, though. Sure - it was a great ‘ole mess of limbs, hair and baggy clothing - but everyone slotted together in the most perfect way. 

Bleary eyed and aware no one could see him, Stiles grinned. Although some of the weight still pressed against his chest, it was nowhere near as bad as the pressure that he’d been trapped beneath the day before. 

Sighing contently, he managed to turn over, and closed his eyes. The smile didn’t leave his lips for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Pack dynamics are my weakness so it was just a matter of time before I broke and ended up writing something like this. If you liked it, kudos and feedback are always appreciated! :)


End file.
